Meet Molly (Millie Perkins), a young woman who lives in a house on the beach with her elder sister, a seamstress, and said sister’s two boys. At night, Molly works at a local bar as a waitress; during the day, she goes out with the children, taking them for walks along the beach and telling them stories of their grandfather, a seaman.

One day, while out on the beach with the boys, Molly begins to notice a bunch of men exercising nearby. Certainly this is something perfectly normal for most women her age; however, what’s not quite so normal is the peek we get at her fantasies, which show the men dead and splattered with blood.

Back at home, Molly attempts to relax while watching television with the boys, but, upon seeing a commercial on television in which a handsome football player touts the quality of a razor, she’s plunged into another fantasy in which she dreams herself with a couple of men. After tying the two of them up on the bed, she then disappears briefly into the bathroom; when she returns, she’s carrying a razor much like the one featured in the commercial. What she proceeds to do with it might even make Bob Flanagan wince.

As the film wears on, it becomes increasingly clear that Molly’s fantasies may not be just fantasies. The bodies of several football players have been found by authorities, all of them sans genitalia. Is Molly actually responsible for these crimes? And what could all those flashbacks to her childhood have to do with all this?

More of a character study than a horror film, The Witch Who Came from the Sea is, at its core, a portrait of a disturbed and traumatized young woman. Taking the film on this level, as opposed to a baser one (e.g. “The Movie Where This Girl Cuts These Guys’ Dicks Off!”), Witch proves to be a fairly effective, if nevertheless flawed, piece of work.

There is a lot to like about Witch. The cinematography, for example, is quite poetic and makes the production seem somewhat like a European art film, a feeling that is further propagated by the story’s deliberate pace and focus on character. On that note, Millie Perkins’ acting, too, is generally effective and surprisingly nuanced, aside from in a few “freak-out” sequences, when things get taken a little over the top. Nevertheless, Witch is, in general, an effective production that’s worthy of a viewing for anyone interested in more off-the-beaten-path American cinema from the seventies.

As for presentation, it appears that Subversive has come through once again. At the beginning of the disk, a brief comparison plays contrasting a scratchy old print of the film with Subversive’s new one, and it really serves to underline the work that must have gone into putting together this presentation. The new print on display is, if a tad faded, otherwise is fine shape, with very few scratches of blemishes present. The fact that it’s presented in its 2.35:1 aspect ratio with anamorphic enhancement is also a plus.

As with presentation, Subversive similarly comes through with extras, which, while not quite as exhaustively plentiful as those on the Living Hell DVD, are nevertheless are surprisingly abundant considering the age and rarity of Witch.

Things start off with bios for Millie Perkins, director Matt Cimber and Cinematographer Dean Cundry and a gallery of trailers for Witch, Living Hell, and two upcoming Subversive releases, Battlefield Baseball and Gemini.

Following this is an audio commentary with Perkins, Cimber and Cundry all present, and which, while interesting at times, isn’t quite filled with the wealth of information and discussion that one might expect from people with such long and illustrious careers. An inordinate amount of discussion surrounds who’s playing what part and how effective (s)he is, as well as various observations about the film’s groundbreaking approach to its taboo subject matter. Along with this, various long, silent pauses give the feeling that perhaps the track was not all it could have been.

The same cannot be said, however, about the 36-minute retrospective featurette also found on the disk, which contains a good deal of interesting stories and observations from (again) Perkins, Cimber and Cundry. Much more satisfying than the commentary and an interesting exploitation of the film’s themes, this featurette just might win the rather inaccessible film a few more converts.

Perhaps not quite as graphic as its years in the bootleg circuit might have lead some to believe, The Witch Who Came from the Sea is a film that nevertheless works on its own terms—not as a shock opus, but simply as a strange yet moving character study of a deeply troubled woman. Excellently presented by the fine folks at Subversive Cinema, Witch deserves a look for anyone more interested in the emotional side of real-life horrors.